Over the brief span of my life,people have always asked me to share something interesting that's happened to me.
I'm DeMicia fudgin' Munsey.
My name alone is interesting, so of course I'm going to have experienced some pretty crazy things!
Every single day that I wake up is interesting because I never do anything the same! Of course I have routines or whatever, but everyone's routine is bound to change sometime.
...And mine, well, it just happens to change more frequently than everyone else's.
And I think that's weird. Because I'm a Taurus. And every horoscope I read tells me how much I loath change. Maybe the horoscope editors are incorrect. Maybe the Aries of the world are the one's who don't adapt easily to change. (No offense to you guys, I was originally supposed to be born as an Aries!)
Either way, I change. And I change every single day.
One day I have hiccups.
The next day I have hiccups.....but at a different time than the day before!
See, that's change for you!
But, back to the original reason for this whole post. When I first meet people and they ask me to share something interesting that I've encountered, I whip out the ancient story of when I broke my foot at three years old.
You read it right-don't take your eyes off this sentence to go and reread the lines above it!
You did it anyway didn't you?
I would've.
Anyway, I remember this like it was yesterday, when in reality it was over a decade ago.
It was a lovely spring afternoon up in Knoxville, TN (my hometown, and for my WWE homies, the birthplace of the magnificient Randal Keith fudgin' Orton!) and me and my mother were paying a visit to my Aunt's home.
Or maybe we were already there, I couldn't tell you that part, I just know we were present at my Aunt's house.
My four cousin's, who were all older than me, were kicked outside so the grown ups could converse back and forth about who knows.
Me, always wanting to be around the big kids, went and followed them outside to play.
My Aunt ran a daycare center back then so her backyard had been transformed into any kid's personal haven. It was equipped with the swingsets, the slides, the little flintstone cars that you had to operate with your feet, a little pond-with no fish, we might've killed them, who knows- tires, she had it all man!
But oddly, they never even went to the backyard.
Nu-uhn. They wanted to be mischievous and play where no kid was allowed to.
Yep. They wanted to play with my Uncle's pick-up truck.
And I was the youngest as I said, so whatever they told me I wanted to do, dammit I wanted to do!
At first, everything was peaches. We were all lounging in the back just playing imaginary games when the third oldest cousin created a new game.
Back then, if I would've known what would happen to me......I still probably would've done it.
Sue me.
This new game was unlike any other. It was death defying. It was mind blowing! It was-simply jumping off the roof of the pick-up into the bed.
Scary huh? Damn right it was!
If I remember correctly, they named this game "Jumping in the Ocean" and all you had to do was climb up on the top along with everyone else, get in line one by one, and jump. One. By. One.
It was fun the first few times. I loved it. I could do it all day!
But the youngest cousin had other intentions with me that day.
When it was my turn to go again, I took a short breather because all that jumpin' had my blood pumpin'!
Like that rhyme??
Me neither.
Anyway, I was very aware of the youngest cousin behind me when it was my turn and I was preparing myself for the mission.
But she just couldn't wait.
The bitch couldn't give me two seconds!
Before I could count to three-because that's what I did when I jumped- that hoefaced raggamuffin shoved me off the top of the pick-up and I landed on my tiny toddler ass right in the bed. Fracturing the bone in my left foot in the process.
It appeared that I'd landed the wrong way and my foot was completely flat on the way down, causing the bone to break.
I cried like a three year old should, and the grown ups immediately rushed to my aid.
...Long story short (There absolutely was no use in typing this seeing as I already explained the whole ordeal, but oh well!)
I got this bombass cast on my foot- and I didn't let anyone sign it either- and I didn't have to walk on my feet for about a month.
Not including the time that my mother got irritated with carrying me and just put me down and made me walk. I took like five steps.
In my mind, you have to have an even number of steps in order to "walk" some place.
And I took five.
That's so uneven.
But wrapping this up, I'm sure whom ever decided to read this learned a very important lesson.
And the lesson was to not read what I type. My thoughts are so freakin' biserk bro!
Peacex <3
